Family Adventures, foreign and domestic.

Canada

August 27, 2009

This is part 4 of a series on our vacation to Canada and Minnesota in 2002, before I had a blog. Eventually, we see polar bears. Honest.

November 6-7, 2002

After leaving the Land of 10,000 Mennonites, we drove back to Winnipeg. Frank insisted that we stop at the Canadian Mint, for some unknown reason. I stayed in the car because mints (other than the chocolate kind) just don’t do a thing for me. Frank went in and was the only visitor. He bought an ounce of gold, some coins and a stuffed polar bear for Alexander. He said there was no one inside, and it was “quiet as a tomb.” I started to sense a pattern developing on this vacation. I decided to rename it the "Quiet as a Tomb Tour."

After our brief stop at the Mint, we drove into Winnipeg to find the posh Fairmont Hotel. On the outside, it was a tall, gray, nondescript building, but the inside was nicely furnished and the staff was helpful and friendly. They were not ready for us when we arrived, so we drove to the Forks Shopping Mall, not far from the Hotel, right across from the train station.

I bought a big red fleece jacket that said “CANADA” across the chest, like the wildly popular ones the Canadians wore in the 2002 Winter Olympics. I'm pretty sure now that actual Canadians didn't wear these jackets, but I felt a sort of solidarity with them. Plus, red is my color, so it was as much a fashion statement as political a political one.

There was a small Manitoba Museum outside the mall, so we checked that out as well. It had a stuffed polar bear, a buffalo, and some exhibits on Manitoba agriculture. This was our first polar bear sighting on the trip, albeit a stuffed on.

When we got back to the hotel, they were ready for us, so we checked into our room on the 19th Floor. We were on a Gold Level floor that had a special lounge for tea and evening drinks, along with coffee and pastries in the morning. The floor also had its own concierge desk. The people who worked at the desk took a shine to Alexander immediately and lavished him with attention.

August 26, 2009

This is Part 3 of a series on our Great Northern Adventure 2002, in which we take a circuitous route to visit some polar bears in Canada.

November 5-6, 2002

After our exciting jaunt into North Dakota, we drove northeast to
Steinbach, Manitoba. Frank’s ancestors were Mennonites, so
Frank has always been interested in Mennonite history and settlements.
There is a large Mennonite population in Manitoba, and most of it
appears to be centered in Steinbach.

As we drove in, Frank noticed the
car dealerships had the names like those of his ancestors, like Friesen
and Penner, which thrilled him to no end. I guess that gave the place an air of familiarity to him,
but I was unimpressed. I suppose I would have felt differently if they
had names like “Choi” or “Kim."

We found our way to the Frantz Motor Inn, which Frank had reserved in
honor of his late Grandmother Tena Franz. “Probably some distant relation,”
he mused.

The place had a creepy, “Twin Peaks” sort of atmosphere,
with blood red carpet, beat up walls and dim naked lightbulbs swinging
overhead. There was something unsettling about the experience, like we
might see a ghost wearing a polyester leisure suit or possibly see “Crime Scene” or "Biohazard" tape around one of the doors. It may be somewhat telling that I
can only describe these places in terms of old television shows—they
seemed to be stuck in time, and in this case it looked like the place
had not been redecorated for about 30 years. Our room was actually much nicer than the hallway led us to believe it would be.

We ate dinner in the motel’s restaurant, The Brass Lantern. It was
unremarkable except for the fact that the portions were huge and served on what might have been used as a turkey platter instead of a plate. It was
just what we needed, more big bland food. Alexander’s chicken nuggets
were about the size of his 95% percentile toddler head. We retired to our room
and watched the results of the U.S. elections. The Republicans
appeared to be making significant gains in both the House and Senate. We went to sleep depressed.

August 24, 2009

Back in November, 2002, before I had a blog or even knew what a blog was, Frank, Alex and I ventured north to Minnesota, North Dakota, and Canada. This is the beginning of a series of stories from that trip, a little walk through the snow down memory lane.

❄ November 3-5, 2002 ❄

Frank, Alexander and I started our Great Northern Adventure by flying from San Jose, California, U.S.A. to Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada on Sunday, November 3, 2002. Alex was 2 1/2, a talkative, bright toddler with a will of titanium. Our journey took us from Winnipeg to such glamor spots as Angle Inlet, Minnesota; Pembina, North Dakota; and Steinbach, Manitoba, all the way north to our final destination in Churchill, Manitoba to witness the annual polar bear migration. We could have dubbed this the “Bears or Bust Tour.”

Our trip started out auspiciously enough. The California weather was cool and clear, and perfect for flying. At the San Jose Airport, Alexander got to burn off a little of his excess toddler-energy at the play scape in Terminal C, then we boarded a United flight to Denver. We changed planes in Denver to a small regional jet, where Alexander tortured the man in front of him for two solid hours by alternately screeching maniacally and kicking his seat. We arrived in Winnipeg later that night.

We spent the first night in the 4 Points Hotel, a comfortable and convenient place that was literally across the street from the airport. The next morning, Frank picked up a rented Volvo station wagon, and we were off. Our first mission was to find some extra snow gear before heading to the wilds of Canada and the Northern United States. The friendly hotel staff directed us to a nearby mall, but recommended the local Wal-Mart as the place to shop for snow gear. We found the mall, and promptly bought snow boots for Alexander at Sears. We didn’t find much for ourselves, and everyone we asked recommended that we go to—you guessed it—Wal-Mart. After the fifth person recommended Wal-Mart, I gritted my teeth to overcome my deep-seated anti-Wal-Mart bias (I am a loyal Target shopper), and reluctantly agreed to go there.

Wal-Mart was all the locals said it would be and more, and did not disappoint. Evidently, not all Wal-Marts are created equal. This one was spacious, clean, with clearly marked aisles. The one we have near our home has the perpetual look of a store that has just been looted, so this was surprising to me. After arming ourselves with cheaper-than-cheap boots, scarves, film, and miscellaneous other winter-vacation related items, we headed blindly into the snow country.

November 12, 2006

Note: We visited Prince Edward Island, Canada in August, and I started a series of postings about our trip there. However, because I am the lamest blogger ever, I couldn't finish it within any kind of decent timeframe after the trip. Chalk it up to Adult ADD or Mommy Brain or whatever.

After our night of learning about Anne of Green Gables via
the musical, Alex and I decided to venture over to the other side of Prince Edward
Island to visit the Green Gables House and Avonlea Village. The one thing I had read about Prince
Edward Island prior to our trip there was that the island has turned Anne of
Green Gables into a cottage industry. The town of Cavendish, birthplace of Lucy Maud Montgomery, has a
concentration of Anne of Green Gables souvenir shops and tourist sites. I can’t think of a place in the US so
dedicated to a literary character. Maybe some entrepreneurial soul will come up with “Tom Sawyer Village”
or “Portnoy’s Apartment.”

October 09, 2006

We crossed over from Nova Scotia to Prince Edward Island by a giant car ferry, parking our rental car on the lower deck. I spent the entire seventy-five minute trip in the cafeteria, reading a copy of Anne of Green Gables that I brought along for the trip. Alex and Frank went exploring and found a video arcade and some other seating areas, and returned when they ran out of quarters. It was a fairly quiet trip, but somewhat amazing to me that this ferry could take on so many cars and 18-wheelers and still float.

Prince Edward Island was pretty much as I had imagined it from reading Anne as a child and from the guidebooks. Verdant green pastures, rocky seasides, tall pine tree forests, all whizzed by as we drove for an hour or so into Charlottetown from the ferry landing. It is a beautiful island, and the white farmhouses dotting the fields reminded me of growing up in Ohio The vibrant green scenery looked a bit like the Scottish countryside as well, but there were not a lot of sheep, unlike Scotland, where we saw more sheep than people.

We stayed at the Delta Hotel in downtown Charlottetown, near the waterfront. The staff was very friendly and helpful, and Alex was greeted warmly by them. It seemed like everyone wanted to talk to him, pat his head, and welcome him to Canada. When we went to ask quesitons at the front desk, he received a welcome packet with a coloring book, crayons, and small toys. He was thrilled. Our room was large and featured a giant jacuzzi in the bedroom and a window seat that Alex claimed for his bed, so he could see the ocean...while he was sleeping.

August 28, 2006

The harborfront in Halifax, Nova Scotia has a nice array of shops, restaurants, food stands and tourist trips, like a tug boat painted like a cartoon character and a sail boat with a large mast which Alex called "The Pirate Ship." Alex and I walked along the harborfront, carry-on luggage in tow fresh off a flight from Boston, looking for Harbour Hopper tour. I thought a combination of land and sea tour would be best, so we could get a sense of the city and figure out how to get to the Citadel so we could meet Frank at 3:30. Alex is quite a shopper, and insisted that we stop in at every souvenir shop, and peruse every vendor's cart. One of them featured pet toys and little sweaters for pets. Alex said, "Dogs should not wear sweaters! That is so silly! They have fur and don't need sweaters." Evidently, he is not exactly up on the latest trends in dogwear or Project Runway challenges.

We made our way to the Harbour Hopper ticket office and purchased our tickets, a Canadian flag, and a small deck of playing cards with the Canadian flag on the back. Alex picked these items as his souvenirs for our day in Halifax. He likes flags, but mostly because the stick can double as a sword if one is stuck in a street fight with pirates without a weapon. He also enjoys just about any kind of card game, so I thought the cards would be good for our upcoming ferry trip to get from Nova Scotia to Prince Edward Island.

As we walked to the Harbour Hopper site to board our tour land-sea former military vehicle, a young woman approached us and handed Alex a flyer for a huge sailboat tour that was leaving in half an hour. I told her that we were going on the Harbour Hopper, but Alex, said, "I don't want to do that, I want to go on the pirate ship!" He then whipped out his Canadian flag stick for some dramatic flair, showing how he would ward off any pirates that might attack us onboard.

I told him we already had tickets for the Harbour Hopper, but we might do the sailboat when we returned to Halifax to fly home. His mood grew sour. He stomped along behind me with a scowl, repeating, "I want to go on the pirate ship!" through clenched teeth.

He cheered up a bit when we saw a young street performer breakdancing on a small stage. He was
collecting money (according to his handmade sign) for a church mission to Africa. Alex asked if we could give him some money and I gave him a dollar coin to put in the hat. The young man smiled at Alex and gave him a "thumbs up." Alex attempted to mimic some of the young man's moves, much to the amusement of a bus-load of Chinese-speaking tourists that had just arrived. I now know why they call it "break dancing"--it appears as though the dancer could break his neck at any moment, and vigilent mom that I am, I made Alex stop trying to spin on his head. Again, Alex was not pleased.

August 20, 2006

Frank was invited to a conference in Prince Edward Island, Canada, so Alex and I took a vacation from work (for me) and Camp-of-the-Week (for him) and tagged along. After missing our flight out of SFO by minutes due to some poor management decisions by United Airlines (a whole other rant), we left a day later, spent the night in Boston, then made our way to Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Frank had gone ahead, but since Alex and I were using frequent flyer miles and thus were on bottom-feeder status, we had to leave a day later. Using Frequent Flyer miles, though "free" puts you in a category slightly lower than "cargo" but slightly higher than "baggage." Like baggage, you just never know where or when you will show up. I should note that this was the week before the terrorist plot was
revealed, so the delays would have probably been much worse. A week
later, we probably would have gone home and spent the week by our
neighborhood pool.

Alex's birthday was the day before we attempted to leave, and he turned the ripe old age of six. That meant we were free, free at last, from the schlepping of the carseat to every destination the world over, even though California is the only place I know of that requires a child of 5 to ride in a car seat. But no matter, we had one less thing to carry and that, as Martha Stewart would say is "a good thing."

We woke up at 5 am Eastern (that's 2 am Pacific, if you are keeping score) to make our flight to Halifax, which I was determined not to miss, come hell or high water. I pretty much did not sleep the night before and Alex, being a real trouper, did not complain much. He slept in his clothes to make the transition a little easier and fell asleep on the taxi ride to the airport, and again on the flight. By the time we arrived at the lovely Halifax International Airport, he was cheerful and rested, while I was feeling like The Crab That Ate Nova Scotia.

We didn't have checked luggage (Frank took that, and we hoped it found him), so we went straight to the information desk, where a pert and helpful young woman directed us to a bus to take us downtown to the Harbor. We had hatched a plan to meet Frank at the Citadel at 3:30 pm, since the Citadel was the biggest thing in town and we figured most people would know where it was and direct us all there if we got lost. I asked the young woman for something to do with a small kid for a few hours while we waited for Frank to arrive. She gave me a variety of brochures and recommended the Harbor Hopper tour as a fun way to see the city. The Harbor Hopper is one of those land-sea vehicles that is a like a bus that transforms into a boat. I thought Alex would like it, since that is exactly the kind of thing The Magic School Bus does, only we weren't going to be miniaturized and fly up someone's nose to investigate how viruses work.

The very nice young woman directed me to a Aiporter bus that would take us downtown to the Harborfront, where we could walk from a hotel to the Harbor Hopper. I thought to myself that these Canadians were certainly a chipper lot, particularly since I was not particularly pleasant and probably smelled a little funny from not using soap during my 2 minute shower. She gave Alex a map of Nova Scotia with a bagpiper on the front, and Alex asked me, "Are we in Scotland, Mommy?"

"No, this is Nova Scotia, Canada. 'Nova Scotia' means 'New Scotland' because a lot of Scottish people settled here." Sometimes, I have no idea what I'm talking about, but I seem to be able to make things up that sound reasonable.

"I like this map of Scotland. I'm going to take it wherever we go so we don't get lost." Alex would not give up the idea that we were in Scotland, and it probably would have taken us less time to get to Scotland, so I just let it go.

We caught the next bus to downtown Halifax, and were dropped off in
front of the Marriott. A man wearing a kilt was standing outside the
hotel. He seemed like he worked there, so I asked where we needed to
go to catch the Harbor Hopper tour. He gave very clear directions,
which were something like, "walk down to the water, turn right and
you'll run into it eventually."

As we walked away, carry-on luggage in tow, Alex pointed to the Kilt Man and said, "See, I told you we were in Scotland."